


The Shadows of Castle Prime

by Cloudiana



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Diary/Journal, Dracula Influence/References, F/F, Gothic, Halloween, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudiana/pseuds/Cloudiana
Summary: Solicitor for the law firm Horde and Associates, Adora Harker, arrives at the dilapated estate of the enigmatic Count Prime hoping to close a real estate deal that will secure her place as a full partner.  However, she soon finds herself trapped in a living nightmare as it becomes clear that the count is not the generous host he appeared to be, and his plans for Etheria extend beyond purchasing a single estate.Will she escape in time to warn the woman she loves of the count's plans?  Or will she be forever lost to the shadows of Castle Prime?
Relationships: Adora & Horde Prime (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Castle Prime

_1 October 18–_  
The smattering of German I acquired before my departure eased my travels by train, but the farther I stray from civilization, the more it seems to drive the locals away. I believe that I would have acquired a carriage several hours earlier if this pitiable foreign solicitor had not been able to form the words “Castle Prime” in the local tongue.

Most of them simply turned pale and hurried away. Some crossed themselves and pushed Tokens of the First Ones into my hand - a local custom perhaps? After many disappointing false starts, I was at last able to take a seat on the cart of a actor and peddler with a most mischievous nature, Double Trouble - as they called themselves.

Unfortunately, even they were only willing to take me to my destination in exchange for every mark I had in my wallet. “Trust me, darling” they said, baring distracting sharp teeth. “You won’t be needing it after you arrive.” It seems my firm’s client has quite a reputation for generosity. At least, that’s how I choose to interpret their words for the sake of my own nerves. My driver seemed to have a flair for dramatic phrasing.

I probably would have given them whatever I had left over after a less extortionate fee as gratuity anyway. The cart-ride to the castle was shockingly treacherous. Without their quick thinking and lightening reflexes, we would have been run off the road by foul weather, bandits, or wolves a thousand times over. Admittedly, I punched a few wolves in the jaw when they got too close, but our survival was mostly due to their good driving.

After eight grueling hours, we finally reached Castle Prime, my destination. Double Trouble drove off with my marks, their laughter mixing with the howls on the wind. Now, I face the castle alone, scribbling in my journal outside the iron gate.

The sunset in this land is breathtaking. Mists rise from the mountain peaks to meet the golden horizon. The blue moon burns against the golden sky. It’s almost enough to make me forget the strange behavior of the locals, the greed of the one person who helped me, and the obtuseness of a client who won’t be seen until the stars are out. It’s almost enough to remind me of her eyes, but I refuse to bring her here, even in my imagination.

Because this place is intimidating - the jagged towers of molded granite stab at the sky. When I approached the gates, the towers’ bases seemed rusted - and I cannot say for sure with what. But all that is welcoming compared with the enormous stakes that decorate the landscape in leu of trees. They are stained too. Though, I dare not look too closely at them.

This client is clearly . . . eccentric to say the least. However, if he made his home at the gates of Hades itself, I would gladly be his guest. The profits this real estate deal shall make this the most substantial transaction our firm has made in a generation, and I shall be the one to secure it. It will be enough to make this orphan someone of worth . . .

Maybe even someone worthy of her . . .

Enough with these daydreams. The sky is getting too dark to ramble on the page, even in shorthand. I see a light coming on in one of the stone windows above. That would be our client, stirring at last from his aristocratic rest. Just in time too. The wolves are beginning to sing.

With any luck, I will prove myself worthy of the firm’s trust in me, with my mentor’s trust in me, with . . . with her trust in me. All I need to do is get a few contracts signed.

How hard can that be?

* * *

_2 October 18–_

I’m glad for this journal. Initially, I meant it to be a place to record my success in securing this deal for Horde and Associates. Now, I fear that need it just to keep myself sane.

Count Prime was almost exactly as I imagined. After all, I’ve dealt with old money before on behalf of the firm, but he was different. Count Prime is ancient money.

The man was - well my reaction to seeing him for the first time was visceral disgust. His whole body was disturbingly smooth and unnaturally pale, except for great patches of grey hair on his hands and around his lips. On his face, there were deep, wrinkled pockmarks. However, the count’s most striking feature was his eyes - green, but brighter (sicklier?) than any shade I had seen before.

If the count noticed my reaction, he did not let it show. Anyway, I quickly forgot those feelings as we got to talking. In spite of his nocturnal habits, Count Prime seemed a most gracious host at first. The meal he laid out for me at my arrival was nothing short of sumptuous. I swear I ate half the table before I got control of myself. I recall him mentioning that each dish was a delicacy to some culture that no longer existed, but I was too busy sating my hunger to fully appreciate what he was saying.

It was only late into the evening when I fully appreciated how strange the circumstances I found myself in were. Count Prime, as far as I could tell, never ate a bite himself during the whole meal. Instead, he spent the evening regaling me with the tales of his dynasty.

The Prime line has a long history in the Fright Zone, and the Count takes great pride in it. In fact, he spoke of his ancestors as if he had been present for all the exploits he described. As if he had been conquering and pillaging alongside them. As if . . . as if he were the men he spoke of.

But, that cannot be. Clearly, this orphan foreigner is just mistaking dynastic enthusiasm for something more sinister. If I had an inkling of my family’s grand deeds (assuming they have any), I would be just as boastful . . . right?

He seemed to speak all night. As the hours dragged on, he never seemed to tire in the slightest. Count Prime was almost embarrassed when the first rays of dawn peaked through the windows of the dining hall. Then, he insisted we retire to the library.

At first, I thought he wanted nothing more than to complete our transaction. The library was a forest of tomes. It would take more than one lifetime to read them all. (I made this observation to the count and he seemed very amused). I would have been lost without his direction. After many minutes, we finally arrived in a study replete with books - atlases, dictionaries, encyclopedias- all opened to entries on Etheria.

Whatever information he apparently couldn’t get from the books he tried to get from me. Some of the questions were the same kinds I asked before I travelled here. He pointed to names on the maps and had me clarify the pronunciations he was unsure of. He asked about what kind of scrutiny he could except at customs, travel times between certain locations, and a thousand other mundane things.

However, not all of his questions were so routine. As I was sharing everything I knew about the dining clubs of Brightmoon, he suddenly interrupted.

“How many solicitors is a man allowed to have in your country?” he asked.

“Uh,” I replied hesitantly. “As many as you can afford, I suppose.”

He seemed very pleased with the answer. “So,” he mused, “if I wished to hire one solicitor to receive a shipment of goods, another to handle their transportation, and a third to secure their delivery to a certain place, I could do that without raising suspicion?”

“Well, yes. As long as –" I stopped myself from adding the caveat that whatever transaction he planned on arranging had to be legal. I have found that clients do not appreciate it when you imply that they are criminals. Fortunately, the count was too caught up in his own excitement to notice the slip.

“And none of these solicitors would need to know of one another? Each would simply keep within his own task?”

I shrugged. “So long as you plan this transaction well and give each one detailed instructions,” I offered. “I’ve certainly been a link in such chains before in my career.”

“That experience will be useful,” he said turning his eyes back to me. “Perhaps you can help me make the arrangements. It would be a shame to waste your time here.”

I took the opportunity to remind him of the reason I was here. Happy as I am to help people, I am not a travel agent. I did not phrase it so bluntly, but I managed to break through before he took us on another tangent.

“Ha!” He barked. “How like a solicitor! Wait until the day is at its end and then try to push the fine print before my tired eyes?” He grinned. “And here I thought you Etherians lacked the killer instinct.”

I began to protest that it was still morning, but then as if to correct me, the great clock in the corner began to chime. At first I thought it was noon, but when I saw how low the candles had burned, I realized that it was midnight.

The count laughed. “Do not fret, little sister,” he assured in a least reassuring manner. “Consider this day negotiation, and consider yourself a good negotiator. I would never make this purchase unless I was absolutely familiar with the country in which I shall reside.”

“Is that why you wish to learn so much about Etheria?” I asked, still wondering how I had lost track of the whole day. “Because you plan to relocate there?”

He leaned back in his chair, considering this. “Even if I were only visiting, I would still wish to know all this. Many times, Primes have campaigned in foreign lands. Whenever we did not first purge ourselves all ignorance, we failed.”

“And besides,” he continued with a growing smile, “a stranger, alone in a foreign land, ignorant of its customs and unable to conceal himself among its people - she is easy prey. And frankly, I wish to be the one hunting.” Then, chuckled as if he had made some great joke.

“Anyway, I believe we should leave further business until the morning.” As he spoke, exhaustion shook my body. It was as if some strange energy which had been sustaining me had suddenly been withdrawn. All I could do was agree.

“Splendid,” he said, before giving me directions to my room. “You should have no trouble getting there yourself I hope?” I assured him that was the case, eager for this bizarre day to be over and done with.

Writing that down now, his words seem ominous, but I assure you in the moment . . . well, in the moment they seemed very ominous, but the fault no doubt lies with me. After all, I’m the stranger here. The count is clearly . . . unique in his manners even by local standards. Living alone with the ghosts of this place, it is no wonder if he’s eccentric around guests.

Is he alone, though? As I retired to my room, I had the uncanny feeling I was being watched. It seems the count’s family fell on hard times a few decades ago. The sconces on the stone walls were empty and coated in cobwebs. The full moon shining through the window was the only light I had to navigate by. The halls were silent except for the occasional rat, and even their sounds were muffled by the thick tapestries covering the walls.

An unwelcome thought entered my mind: that I could scream and still be heard by no one.

A few times, I lost my nerve and jerked my head around to see who was there, but the only the shadows met my panicked gaze. Yet, when I finally reached the door to my chambers, I took one final glance behind me. And I could have sworn I saw a pair of eyes glaring back at me from the shadows.

I slammed the door with such force I thought the hinges might break. There was no way to lock it from this side, so in desperation I shoved the dresser to serve as a barricade. It’s still there now as I write this. I shall be ashamed of my cowardice in the morning, but I know I will not sleep without it there.

It’s just the long trip and my own nerves playing tricks on me I’m sure, and I will not allow such things to jeopardize my work for the firm. In a few days, I shall be on the train home, reading this journal and chuckling at the absurdity of my own words. I can only imagine the teasing I shall endure if this journal ever finds its way into her hands.

I would give anything to hear that teasing now . . .

* * *

 _4 Oct 18–_  
I was right. A little sunlight is all it took to banish my fears. As I walked down to join the count for breakfast, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. Behold the source of my terrors: a few cobwebs and some old bolts of cloth. In the morning light, I could appreciate the diversity of the tapestries. No two seemed to have the same style.

I asked Count Prime about them over our meal. Once again, he failed to eat anything so he had plenty of time to talk. (I have never met anyone more in love with the sound of their own voice.) Apparently, almost every decoration in the castle was a trophy taken in some old conquest. So, naturally he launched into a monologue about those battles.

His stories continued as we made our way back to his study. As someone who once impersonated an art historian (long story - it was a favor for a friend), I had hoped I could add something to the conversation, but the count was more in the mood to give a lecture. I don’t think he ever paused for breath.

It wasn’t until we reached the study that he fell silent. While I followed him through the musty stacks of books, I caught sight of another tapestry in the corner. In all the excitement of the previous day I hadn’t noticed it, but I felt compelled to inspect it – obscured as it was by dust and neglect.

When I close my eyes, I can see the image perfectly in my memory. The angular designs and faded pastel threads portrayed a golden woman, clad in white armor and holding a great sword above her head. Strange symbols embroidered the borders. Looking at them, a phrase flashed in my mind: “She-Ra”.

“How can you read that?” The count snapped, suddenly appearing behind me. I hadn’t realized I spoke out loud.

“I - uh - I studied Linguistics,” I lied unconvincingly. Hoping to change the subject, I asked about the origin of this trophy. “Tell me, count, in what glorious Prime conquest was this taken?”

The count’s face hardened. “It was taken from Eternia,” he said through gritted teeth. “Centuries ago, We took our banners to that land. We tore down the castles, burned the fields, and salted the earth, but the Eternians did not disappear without a final insult.” He gestured at the figure on the tapestry. “We marched to war with tens of thousands of soldiers, but We returned alone.”

He composed himself. “But, there is no need to dwell on the failures of the past. Let us turn to future endeavors.” I seconded, and we returned to his desk to at last finalize the contracts.

I laid the deed out for him to review. Before I departed Brightmoon, I memorized every word.

_Hall of Horrors  
100-acre estate, including manor home, two (2) forges, two (2) refineries, one (1) mine (copper), all in excellent condition.  
Extensive wooded areas – perfect for country recreation.  
Located half-mile northwest of village Crimson-on-the-Dunes (Pop. 2,000).  
Nature of Sale: Lock, Stock and Barrel. Holder of this deed entitled to any and all real and moveable property, assets, and other items of value contained within estate at time of transfer of title.  
Disclaimer: Horde and Associates takes no responsibility for any future proceedings in which the rightfulness of our possession of this property is disputed on the basis of fraud, malfeasance, or extortion committed by our associates in the process of obtaining it. Client accepts sole responsibility for any long-lost heirs, incompletely murdered previous owners, and any and all other individuals seeking revenge on the basis of this transaction._

The count’s brow furrowed as he examined the document. The disclaimer always annoyed clients. Regrettably, this drew my attention back to those pocmarks on his forehead. In my exhausted state yesterday, I didn’t appreciate how truly unsettling they were. The wrinkles seemed to twitch, as if something just below the the count’s pale skin was struggling to get out.

“Have you been to the property personally?” His question jolted me back to attention. Fortunately, his eyes never left the paper; so, my staring went unnoticed.

“I visited the Hall of Horrors on behalf of the firm the week before my departure,” I answered.

“And is this description accurate?”

I took a deep breath. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m a terrible actress and a worse liar. If any other solicitor from my firm had been in my place, they would have been able to spin a fable about the hall’s condition, but I knew I couldn’t hide the true state of the property from the count.

But I had anticipated this problem weeks ago, and my brain hadn’t been idle in that time. I had been watching the count, trying my best to get in his head. I knew how to close this deal the honest way.

“In the broad strokes,” I began. “It is accurate. However, some details are out of date. The grounds have not been tended to in years and are quite overgrown. The foundations of the hall are solid, but the wood on the porch is rotting, and the roof of the east wing is starting to sag. The interiors are well-preserved, but it will take extensive renovations to make them livable, and even more to make them comfortable.”

His eyes narrowed as he absorbed this information. “I do not think your employers would appreciate your honesty. Do you wish to make me rethink my purchase?”

It was my turn to flash a knowing smile. “I am not finished. The deed also fails to reflect the change in the surrounding area. The village was abandoned fifteen years ago. When the previous owners left, support for local industry went with them. The closest train platform is a three-hour ride away on horseback.” His eyebrows lifted with interest. I had him!

“Besides your home,” I concluded triumphantly, “the Hall of Horrors is the most remote, secluded, and *private*, estate I have ever seen.” Whether he wanted the privacy for the sake of solitude or to hide whatever weird smuggling ring -- I mean probably legitimate import venture he wants all those solicitors for, I didn’t know, but I was sure that’s what he valued more than anything. Why else would he choose this property above all other available estates in Etheria?

We sat in silence for several minutes. For a terrible moment, I thought I had overplayed my hand. That I was wrong about what the count was seeking in Etheria. That I had failed.

Then, the count nodded solemnly. “You are more observant than I gave you credit for, Ms. Harker.” And with that, he signed the contract.

It took all the will I had to keep myself from leaping with joy and hitting at the top of my lungs. Success at last! If only Weaver was alive to see it. Who’s a naive fool who can’t lie to save her career now? Well, I am - but I succeeded anyway and that’s what matters!

With this deal, I’ve finally done it. It took three years of hard labor, but I’ve done it. In total, I have now personally brought in 100,000 pounds for Horde and Associates. That alone would be enough to make me a full partner with job security for life, but that’s not all. At last, I have fulfilled the conditions of my mentor’s last will and testament. Now, I am the sole claimant to her whole estate!

It’s strange. All these years, I’ve been working towards this goal. Now that I have it, will I lose my drive? If my friends are to be believed, that isn’t possible. However, as a partner, I will put my education to better use: less time working for creepy aristocrats, more time helping those in need. Maybe I can even lead the firm to a place where we can ditch the unsettling disclaimers.

I admit, I haven’t really put much thought into what I shall do with this fortune. Well, I do have few substantial purchases in mind: a nice summer home in the country, and a pair of wedding bands, but only if a certain someone is willing to share them with me. Now that I finally have the means to provide her with the life she deserves, I shall have the courage to ask.

I nearly wrote her with my proposal, but I would much rather tell her myself. I did compose a few letters to the firm at Count Prime’s suggestion. Once our primary business was done, he took a personal interest in his guest. The count asked after my family history (though I told him he knows as much as I do), my friends, and even my work acquaintances.

“I understand you Etherians maintain deep, emotional connections with one another,” he explained. “Since you will be staying to assist me in making certain arrangements, I want to ensure that no one is needlessly worried by your delay.”

The extra work won’t delay news of my success. Count Prime arranged for all the contracts to be mailed on the next train to Etheria. Additionally, at his suggestion, I composed a few forward-dated letters to be sent from various stations along the route home. If I finish the work in a few days, as I expect I shall, I can collect the letters before any are sent. Otherwise, they will explain that I am delayed by weather or illness. The count insisted that I not disclose the actual reason for my delay (he's definitely smuggling artifacts). The longer I take, the more letters will end up being sent. That way, if I lose track of time working on these arrangements for the count, no one at the firm will worry.

It really was thoughtful of the count to arrange this. I have been known to lose myself in my work. Once in law school, I passed out in the library after studying for a Contracts exam two days straight. I spent the whole day with a full page of Blackstone’s Commentaries printed on my face. That episode wasn’t a total disaster, though. I’m still friends with the student who sat next to me that day. Apparently, my face was a very helpful cheat sheet.

It’s funny. As I’m writing this down, I can’t recall precisely when I agreed to stay for additional business. Still, I’m already here. What’s a little extra work for the youngest partner in Horde history?

* * *

10 Oct 18–  
I made a horrible mistake.

This evening, after I had finished assisting the count with his shipping arrangements, I decided to wander the castle. I wanted to give my writing hand a break, since I knew the first thing I would do upon returning my room was scribble in this journal. The count had warned me against it (really it was an order), but I wasn’t worried. Why would I be? I’m an idiot who got herself trapped in a castle with a monster!

No, monsters. Plural! Way to go, Adora!

I was inspecting a long abandoned grand hall when it happened. Weak moonlight streamed through the grimy floor-to-ceiling windows. The stained-glass designs mimicked constellations. A thick layer of dust covered every inch of the room. Several chandeliers, wrapped in thick canvas, littered the polished stone floor. The ropes connecting them to the ceiling disappeared into the darkness above. A dais with a broken throne was at one end and the only entrance, a huge, rotting wooden door stood at the other. Somehow, I thought, even the parties in the castle’s glory days must have been creepy.

I was musing on just how long this room had been abandoned when a high-pitched scream ripped the air - a child’s scream. I whirled around and was met by those green eyes that haunted me my first night - three pairs of them. The hunched figures bore a strong resemblance to the count - white skin, angular features - and they wore the same antique clothes. But further details were lost on me when I saw what they were carrying- a squirming burlap sack.

The next thing I was aware of a jaw crunching against my fist. Before the others could react, I shoved them aside and ripped the sack open. A golden-haired Magicat child with a red bandana scrambled out and ran towards the back of the room. But there was no escape, the - the things were blocking the only exit. Panicked, the child scrambled up one of the chandelier ropes.

I was so focused on the child, that I left myself vulnerable. One of the things pinned me against the side of the door frame. Its elbow cut off into windpipe. With its other arm, it restrained my arms above my head. The one I punched was still down. The other advanced towards the child. The things moved in slow motion, as if they had all the time in the world, as if they had never known resistance.

“What are you doing here?” The thing hissed. Dark spots swirled in my vision. I couldn’t breathe.

“How dare you interfere in our feeding?” The spots got larger.

“This is the purpose our master has deemed his subject worthy for.” My skull was about to burst.

”Our master was wise to choose them. No one will miss this abandoned orphan runt.” I had been on the verge of passing out before he said that. The rage his words inspired gave me the strength to fight back. Monsters or not, I wasn’t going to let them lay a hand on this child.

Summoning all the strength I had, I kicked out with both legs hard into it’s stomach. The monster stumbled back, and I scrambled free. My lungs still burned as I sprinted back into the hall.

The remaining fiend had not been idle. Before I could reach him, he pulled down the thick rope with unnatural strength. Bits of mortar and dust exploded from the ceiling. The thing had pulled the iron hook that the rope was attached to out of its place. The child yelped as they fell, still clinging to the rope. By some miracle, I managed to reach them before they hit the floor - diving just in time to cushion their fall. It only cost me one broken rib.

Ignoring the pain, I sprung up and laid the remaining monster to the floor with a strong punch. I lifted the rope, iron hook and all, and chucked it through the closest stain glass window. It shattered. We were several stories above the courtyard, but I thought the rope would be enough to get them to the ground. The rope ran through the window, hook and all, before stopping suddenly. The child had a chance!

“Go!” I shouted in a language the child probably could not understand. “Go! I’ll hold them off! Go!” By some miracle, the child grasped my meaning - or perhaps simply needed no encouragement - and began to shimmy down the rope, past the broken stained glass to freedom, maybe even to safety. I stayed back, squaring off against the closest monster when it started to rise off the floor.

I held them off as long as I could, bloodying my knuckles in the process. Before long though, all three were awake, and I was backed up into a wall - this time beside the broken window. I considered jumping out, trying to take advantage of the same rope the child had, but it was too late. I couldn’t risk their safety; as far as I knew, they were still shimming down to freedom. Besides, the thing’s sickly green eyes pinned me in place by some strange force of will. I could not move even if I wanted to.

“You disrupted our meal,” the one who had once pinned me against the door frame snarled as he approached. Then, the thing I had been fighting grabbed my bloodied hand.

“Perhaps you can make up for our loss.” It began to sniff my hand. As if by enchantment, I couldn’t move an inch. I was at its mercy. I watched in horror as the two came closer. The first one I had struck pulled itself off the ground and dragged its body over to my immobilized form.

The speaker put his lips up to my hand and moved up to my neck. His breath was hot. The other moved up to my hand, and it began to -it’s horrible to describe- it fixed its lips on my wounds, dug its teeth into my flesh, and began to drink my blood. I grew weaker by the moment. I don’t know what would have happened if they had gotten the chance to - to finish the job they intended to complete.

But by the grace of the First Ones, or by some darker power, the lesser monster was not given that chance. Instead, I was left to the mercy of a much greater monster. For before the speaker could pierce my neck, the one I had knocked unconscious seized up. It was as if some unseen puppeteer jerked its invisible strings.

“Stay away from her,” it ordered, in a voice my gut knew was not its own. “She has not yet fulfilled the purpose that We have deemed for her.” It ripped the thing off my then freely bleeding hand.

The speaker quavered with desire, its teeth still grazing my throat. “But master,” it pleaded, “our meal –"

“Was lost solely because of your own incompetence,” the other voice thundered. “May your hunger serve as a lesson.”

My captor bowed his head. “I-,” it stuttered. “I understand master.” He let me go. Before I could consider anything, I ran through the halls, back to my room, and barricaded the door behind me like I did on my first night in this cursed place.

I bandaged my left hand with some strips I ripped off my bedsheets. As I’ve written this entry, I’ve kept glancing at my wounded hand. I want this to have been a nightmare - a product of my stressed-out imagination, but it’s not. Each throb of pain from my hand reminds me that I’m not so lucky.

This is real. The danger is real. The monsters are real.

Somehow, I know that the sunlight will bring safety. If I can stay awake, if I can keep the door secured, I will be safe. I will tell the count of these monsters in the morning. He will know what they are, and what we must do to defeat them.

If I can survive the night, I trust that the count and I will be able to bring these monsters to justice.

* * *

19 Oct 18  
So, Count Prime is also a monster. Re-reading these entries, I will admit, I should have seen this coming. I didn’t, because again - I am an idiot.

In the morning after my encounter with his little brothers - as I now know he calls them - I meant to tell the count what had happened. But whenever I was in his presence, all I could think about was how best to serve him. Looking back, he exuded the same influence that his brothers used to pin me to the wall that night. Expect his influence was far more insidious.

I spent days writing out instructions, listing potential Etherian solicitors, and generally preparing the way for the count to make his way into Etheria. What have I done? By the First Ones, what have I done! I’ve made it easier for him to hurt you!

After several days in this fugue state, I finally stumbled back into my room. Perhaps the count, realizing that my body would fail before my mind, released me from his influence; perhaps my flesh and blood - in sufficient distress - was at last able to overpower the sway he held over my mind. Either way, I took to bed in the middle of the day, but I woke up to a horrible nightmare.

Troubled by - well, by everything that was going on - I looked out the window to take in the landscape. It was sunset. I tried to recall the wonder I felt the first time I watched a Fright Zone sunset - how it reminded me of your eyes, your beautiful, beautiful eyes. I tried to just think about you. How much I wanted to see you. To be with you. To tell you how much I ——

Anyway, I was ripped from my daydreaming by a terrible reality after the sun sank below the horizon. As I gazed out onto the orange and red forest landscape below the castle walls, I saw . . . I saw HIM, climbing down the walls headfirst with his claws digging into the stone. The wrinkles on his forehead had opened and - oh First Ones - they were EYES! Extra eyes, shining greener than I thought possible from his deformed skull.

The image of this monster was burned in my brain. When he came to see me the next morning, I was already packed to leave. His influence had no sway over my perception of him.

“I need to leave,” l told the count with all the boldness I could muster.

I refused to listen to his commands that I stay with him - with his monsters - until I finish my work for him. He changed tactics. “I do not think it would be safe for you to leave,” he said attempting to sound sympathetic. “Children have been disappearing from the village. For some reason, the locals have decided that you must be involved - as an outsider and all.” He grinned. “Stupid superstition, nothing personal I assure you.”

“I need to leave, now!” I practically shouted.

The count evaluated me with colder eyes than I thought anyone - human or monster could possess. “Alright,” he said at last. “I am your host, not your captor. I cannot keep your here without your consent.”

With that, we walked to the grand gate in the courtyard. I thought I had done it. By some miracle, I would be free. Shadow Weaver was right. I am a naive fool if I believed that.

As the count strode towards the iron gates, the howling started. I saw the wolves - larger than any I had seen before - began to crowd around the other side. The count seemed to take no notice. The beasts - there were dozens of them - hundreds?- pushed against the iron bars, teeth bared. Their howls drowned out any thoughts I had. I knew that if the count opened that gate, I would be ripped apart in an instant.

“No!” I shouted, in absolute defeat. “Don’t! I’ll stay! I’ll stay!”

The count grinned at my submission. As he took his hands off the iron gate, the wolves disappeared into the woods. He escorted me back to my chambers with a sickening smile.

“I admit my disappointment, Ms. Harker,” he said when we reached my room. “I had hoped that you might serve a higher purpose in my Light - that you might become part of my family.” I shuddered, and the count grimaced. “But I see now that your . . . attachments to your fellow Etherians are too strong. Such a role would not suit you.” Count Prime smiled. “However, everyone has a place in my domain. Perhaps yours is to . . . satisfy my little brothers.”

I should have struck him. I should have grabbed him by the throat and rung his neck until it snapped. But instead, I stood there silently - obediently! - entranced by his every word. I was - I’m disgusted to admit it - ashamed of his disappointment in me. So, I nodded.

His smile grew larger. “Goodbye, Ms. Harker,” he sneered as he closed the door behind him. That was the last time I saw him, and it was two days ago. I’ve only now found the strength to record this in my journal.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe I still have some foolish hope. I still think that you will find this. That you will see that this wasn’t my fault. That I loved

It doesn’t matter now.

I’m starving, and I’m trapped in these chambers, waiting for his little brothers to come for me. For the last few days, I’ve watched helplessly as the preparations I made for the count have been set in motion. In the courtyard below, I’ve watched as delivery after delivery of strange materials have been shipped according to my instructions. All to Etheria. All to further the monster’s plans.

Whenever the porters caught sight of me, they crossed themselves and looked away. One woman screamed at me furiously. I couldn’t make out what she said, but I didn’t need to. The count was not lying. He’s poisoned their minds against me, made them think that I’m the one who stole their children.

I can’t rely on them for help. Even if I could escape this prison, the villagers would catch me. Maybe they’d turn me in to the count; maybe they’d kill me themselves. Honestly, being ripped apart by an angry mob is probably too good for me.

A monster is coming for everyone I love, and I helped him with his plans. I’ve helped him hide his intentions from anyone who could stop him. Whatever blood he sheds now is on my hands.

Because of the staggered letters, no one at the firm will have reason to worry about me for a month at least. By the time they have reason to be concerned, I will be long dead – or worse.

I’m sorry, Catra. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.

I feel myself growing weaker with every pen stroke. I just want you to know - I lov———

* * *

20??? Oct 18–  
I must have passed out while writing. I don’t know how long ago that was. I woke up at sunrise, stirred by the scent of provisions beneath my nose. Some cured jerky, a few stale biscuits. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to revive me. My savior left the food in a red bandana, but that was not all they did.

As I watched the last of the count’s . . . deliveries . . . leave the courtyard, I saw the other gift my savior left me. Little highlights of white chalk littered the stone walls outside my window. They had marked the handholds they had used to reach me. A dangerous, likely sleep deprived and definitely desperate, thought came to me. If the monster could climb down the walls - if my savior could - maybe I could do the same as them.

It was perilous. I can’t count how many times I thought I was going to fall to my doom in the failing daylight, but I made it to the count’s secret chambers. The first thing I noticed was a pile of dusty gold. Looking over a few pieces, I saw the imprinted faces of Augustus, Nero, and Mara - these coins were ancient, but the gold was still good.

I didn’t have much time to appreciate the pieces, because I soon caught sight of the count - or rather his - his property. The chamber was filled from floor to ceiling with strange coffin-like glass barrels filled with green liquid. In one of those coffins, I found the count floating in the ooze.

He had red fluid staining his lips- blood, I was certain. He seemed younger, disturbingly. His hair was darker. His lips fuller. The tubes connecting him to the chamber, pumping the green fluid into him, seemed to be the cause.

I wish I knew how to kill him then and there. I tried. By the First Ones! I tried. I found a rusted sword handing on the wall of his blood-soaked chamber. It was a short-sword, broad and silvered, with a winged, golden hilt and a great hole in the center of it. As I ripped it off the wall, I swear I felt its - its yearning for whatever was supposed to be within it.

I didn’t care for the sword’s yearnings though, as long as I could slay the monster, but I failed. I failed. I slashed the sword across his forehead, but not a drop of blood came out. He lay there like a corpse, bloated and monstrous.

There was nothing else I could do. The sun was falling fast, and I knew his brothers would soon rise from their hiding place. I gathered some spare rope, tied the ends to the handle, and slung the makeshift scabbard over my back. With my hands free, I scrambled back to my room. The blade wasn’t much in the face of these monsters, but I didn’t want to pass another night unarmed.

The things didn’t come for me last night though. Perhaps the count insisted they refrain until he left- their hunger all part of his punishment. Regardless of the reason, my life was spared. And I intend not to waste it.

Even if this is all my fault, I refuse to lay down and accept my death without a fight. I have the chance to make things right, to stop this monster before he hurts you or anyone else. And I will take that chance no matter the cost.

The last shipment of barrels, with the count among them, left this evening – one hour ago exactly. Now, I am alone with his little brothers. They are still slumbering somewhere, hiding from the sunlight. Maybe, they are dreaming of their long-delayed meal, if those things can dream at all. But I will be gone when they wake up.

I can’t risk returning by train, at least not immediately. The closest station can only be reached by the village’s roads, and the village is off limits to me because of the count’s lies. I’ll have to go on foot, at least for the first hundred miles. Once I’m sure I’m out of the count’s range of influence, I’ll secure passage back home on the first train I can find.

Before I flee the castle, I’ll return to his secret chamber and take some of that gold. Those pieces should smooth over any questions people have for a foreign, manic solicitor as I make my way across this continent. I’m keeping the sword I found as well. It just feels right in my hand, like it was meant for me. Wishful thinking no doubt, but it’s still comforting.

As I write this, the sun is setting. The monsters will be out soon, and I have to go before they wake. Somehow, the sunset is still beautiful.

Catra, if by some miracle you find this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I waited to tell you. To hell with hesitation - with planning for the future. None of that matters now.

I love you, Catra. I always have. I should have told you the moment I first saw you - the moment I first realized that I couldn’t live without you. It’s too late now, but at least by writing my confession down, I preserve the chance that you will find out.

It’s probably wishful thinking on my part. I couldn’t hope that someone like you would even notice me, let alone share my feelings. But if this is my last night alive, then I won’t leave anything unwritten - even if I was foolish enough to leave it unsaid.

I said I’d go to Hades and back for you. I guess I’ll have to prove that boast now. As long as I have the chance to make things right - the slimmest chance to keep you and the rest of Etheria safe from this monster - I will never stop fighting.

I promise.


	2. Memorandums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lawyers of Horde and Associates speculate on Adora Harker’s absence

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Kyle, Junior Associate

Memo: re - Harker’s Absence - 11/01 

Do either of you think these letters we’ve been getting are weird? The railroads on the continent cannot be this unreliable.Nor can the weather be this inhospitable.Also, how are there trains to take the mail but not trains to take her?This does not add up.

She left a month ago. We got the closed contract weeks ago. She should be back by now. I think something is wrong, but I don’t know what.

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Rogelio, Junior Associate

Memo: re - Harker’s Absence - 11/01 

I agree with Kyle. 

It would be one thing if she just took a month to close the deal. The firm has been stuck with the Hall of Horrors deed since long before any of us even started law school.And knowing Adora, she absolutely could not lie convincingly about its condition.But we have the contract. She did it. And she’s still missing. 

I’m worried.

Also, Catra asked me where she is, and I’m scared of her.

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Lonnie, Senior Associate

Memo: re - Harker’s Absence - 11/01 

Calm down! 

Do you remember what she was like in law school? Adora has been going through burn and crash cycles for her whole career, and it’s only gotten worse since Shadow Weaver died.After she secured this major contract because of months of unrelenting work (burn), she probably passed out in some hotel (crash).I don’t blame her, but these letters are just an excuse. 

Trust me. She’ll be back any day now.No need to bring this upstairs to Hordak.Get back to work.

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Kyle, Junior Associate

Memo: re - Harker’s Disappearance - 11/09

I rubbed a pencil over the latest letter. You know, the one that blamed yet another conveniently late train for Harker’s “delay”? 

I found the impressions of other words that looked familiar.Sure enough, I recognized them from the last letter we got from her.I repeated the process with all the letters we received so far, and I got the same result.

All of these letters were written at the same time! I think she’s in trouble.We have to do something.

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Lonnie, Senior Associate

Memo: re - Harker’s Disappearance- 11/09

Ok, Kyle, let’s sketch out how your version of events would have gone. 

Adora Harker - a woman who we all once witnessed bench-press a racehorse on a drunk dare, single-handedly fought an entire bar because a patron insulted her girlfriend, and judo-tossed Octavia at the firm Christmas party, was somehow intimidated into writing a series of letters explaining her delay (which contained no hidden hints that she was in peril) to cover up for the kidnapping of a poor foreign solicitor with practically no social connections.

Or . . . She got sick and is lying about it because she was basically raised by someone who taught her to equate weakness with worthlessness! 

Adora probably wrote all these letters at once, pre-dated them, handed the stack to the hotel manager, and said “Please send these out until I drag myself out of my room after I’ve re-suppressed whatever major self-worth issues from my childhood which still plague me to this day. Thank you.” She may not have said those words exactly, but you get the gist.

Occam’s Razor, Kyle! The solution with the fewest moving parts is probably the correct one. 

Adora is fine.Stop worrying about her.Focus on your own work.

Speaking of which, we have a new transactional shipping contract from a one “Count De Ville” that needs attending to.I want you on the train to Selianias tomorrow morning.The HMS Dragon’s Daughter IV will be entering port this week, carrying the cargo our firm has been contracted to accept. 

It is probably a smuggling operation or something equally illegal (I mean Count De Ville. Really?); so don’t ask too many questions.Fortunately, Adora is passed out in some backwater hotel, so we won’t risk alienating our clients with “morality” and “honesty”.I’ll never understand how that woman can process so much information so quickly when it comes to the law and still be such an idiot when it comes to the people we work with. 

Anyway, I’ll be sure to ask her about that when she comes back - which she will absolutely do any day now!

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Lonnie, Senior Associate

Memo: re - Translation Needed- 11/13

Rogelio,

We received this letter today.It’s in German(?) poor handwriting.Whatever language it is, I need a full translation from you before close of business. 

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Rogelio, Junior Associate

Memo: re - Translation Needed- 11/13

Enclosed is the translated letter.I have also forwarded a copy to Kyle. Given the references to attached Horde documents - which only Harker could have had - and the location - where Harker likely is - I assume he has earned the right to an “I told you so” or three.

This calls for a squad meeting.

[Enclosed Letter]

To whom it may concern,

We recently rescued a foreign traveler -6ft, blonde woman, professional attire.She was found passed out on a train platform near Port Krytis.She showed clear signs of suffering from exposure and delirium. 

We have successfully treated her for double pneumonia.Yet, whenever she is awake, she talks about the most horrible things.Clear signs of metal trauma, as well as physical— induced paranoia, possibly general delusions.

Among her personal effects were papers with the mark and address of your law firm.We felt it right to return them to you. 

As we have not been able to ask her many personal questions before she starts brandishing a sword at us, we were also hoping you could identify her, as she does seem to be from your country and somehow related to your firm.

P.S. Yes, we have tried taking the sword away from her while she is sedated.But she has a surprisingly strong right hook even without it.

Sincerely,

Sister Perfuma

St. Mara Sanitorium

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Kyle, Junior Associate

Memo: re - Translation Needed- 11/13

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Lonnie, Senior Associate

Memo: re - Ah- 11/13

Stop writing things down immediately.If Hordak gets wind of this, we’re all in trouble - including Adora. Ok?Do you think he’ll make her a partner if he hears that she is in an insane asylum in some backwater country right now? 

Look, ever since Weaver died, we all agreed to stick together.Adora has the best chance to make partner and turn this firm into a place worth working at.We can’t jeopardize that now.

Both of you - just meet me at the firm’s private room at the Black Garnet Dinner Club tonight.I have a solution to our current problem that I want to discuss with you.

I think you will find that my proposal will get Adora rescued immediately without expending any firm resources (or alerting Hordak). 

I shall see you tonight.

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Lonnie, Senior Associate

Dear Miss Catra,

I have been given reason to understand that you are worried about the location of our senior associate, Adora Harker.

Enclosed is a recent letter we received with information as to her whereabouts.

What you do with this information is up to you.

Sincerely,

Lonnie

* * *

Horde and Associates

From the Desk of: Lonnie, Senior Associate

Memo: re -Ah- 11/14

Saw a police report this morning.A train station teller made a complaint after a woman eager to be on the earliest train to the continent nearly clawed his eyes out.

Adora should be home any day now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a long time ago, but never shared it. I thought I might as well let you see it now. I don’t know if I’ll return to this AU anytime soon. Full Moon Fever and You Seem So Strong are my mains right now, I have way more ideas about them honestly. I may return to this next Halloween, thought. How about Entrapta as Dr. Seward?! 
> 
> But for now, I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, leave a kudos or comment. They always mean a lot. This was my first fic, before I even knew how to use the Rich Text functions! So, it’s nice to share this with you. Dracula has a special place in my heart, and I hope I can bring across some of it’s spookiness here. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments of all kinds are welcome. I don't think I have time to write the rest of Dracula out - though I have cast some other characters in my head - so consider this a stand alone, for now at least. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Happy Halloween!


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